Top Ten Quotes of the Day

Okay, I don't have ten. But, Mikie has had some pretty good lines lately. Here's a run down of some of today's favorites:

1. Target: Mikie recognizes certain places by sight (chalk it up to effective brand marketing): Dunkin Donuts, Home Depot, and TARGET. His favorite place is Target, primarily because it sells toys. So, when we pulled up at the mall to get my bracelet shortened, he was disappointed to hear that there wasn't a Target inside. While I was trying to carry on a conversation with the sales girl, Mikie kept trying to interrupt me to tell me why we needed to leave and go to Target (he should really be on their payroll). His best excuse: "If we don't go to Target NOW, it may close on us FOREVER." While the economy may be weak, I feel confident that Target won't be closing forever. At least not this week.

2. Clothes: After the unproductive trip to the jewelers, we went in search of an outfit for Mikie to wear to my cousin's wedding in two weeks. As I tried to drag him into Gymboree, I explained that we needed to get him a nice shirt for the wedding. His response (which seemed to amuse the sales girl): "I don't want a nice shirt for the wedding. I can wear THIS shirt." I tried to explain that the faded orange T-shirt emblazoned with the words "I GET MY MUSCLES FROM MY DAD" was not appropriate formal wear. He didn't seem to believe me (or care).

3. Speed Racer: After Gymboree, we went to Sears in search of the elusive dress shirt. I figured it was safe, since Sears only sells toys at Christmas. However, they had a small display of Speed Racer toys strategically placed in the children's clothing section. Of course, Mikie NEEDED a Speed Racer car. So, I promised he could pick out one if he was good. He picked out one (the white Mach 5 car), but informed me that "On Tuesday, I can get the yellow car." When I told him that today WAS Tuesday, he said "On the FIRST Tuesday, I can get the yellow car." By the time we reached the front of the line, Tuesday became Friday. And, as we exited the store, he said "On Thursday, I can get the yellow car." Luckily, he has no concept of time, so he shouldn't be too upset when we don't make it back to the store in two days.

Love, The Trahans

Bad Habits

I feel the need to preface this post by saying we are good parents. Overall, I think Mikie is a clean and well behaved child. I don't think he has any gross habits (although, like most children his age, he does like to pick his nose and eat it). So, I am embarrassed to admit to being the parents of the kid that pees in the playground.

Yes, today when I picked Mikie up at school, the teacher told me he had a good day, with the exception of an incident on the playground. I braced myself, expecting to hear that he stole a toy or pushed another child. The teacher informed me that Mikie called her over while they were playing outside, saying, "Ms. Janice. I have something cool to show you." As she approached, Mikie proceeded to pull down his pants and take aim. She ran over and told him that we could not pee outside, that if he had to use the bathroom, he had to go inside. Mikie's response: "It's okay, my dad let's me do it."

It started out innocently enough. Mike and Mikie were waiting for me in a parking garage in New York when Mikie announced he had to pee. Not having enough time to turn off the car and run into a nearby building, Mike showed Mikie how to "pee on the road" (as Mikie calls it). And, I have to admit, when we are on long trips, or even driving our 45 minute commute to work, if Mikie tells me he has to "pee on the road", I pull over to a wooded area and let him out. Each time, I try and explain that we can't pee anywhere. We have to be in the woods, not in someone's yard. And, preferably in a place where no one will see us (or catch us as the case may be). Unfortunately, this doesn't always work out (remember the post about peeing in Home Depot's parking lot under the surveillance camera?)

Obviously, I was MORTIFIED. I could picture all the toddler boys in Mikie's class running home and peeing in their backyards because "Mikie does it". I tried to explain the history to the teacher, who said not to worry about it, she didn't care what he did elsewhere, she just wanted him to know he couldn't do it at school.

I immediately called Mike. Mostly to blame him for teaching our son this bad habit, since I am not equipped to teach him (even if I haven't exactly discouraged it). His response, "I guess we need to teach him NOT to blame Daddy."

Really, we ARE good parents. I promise.

Love, The Trahans

The Playdate

The title sounds innocent enough. Like "Halloween", it is a title that can be used to describe an event, or a horror film. This was our first REAL playdate. And, as you will see below, I understand why we hadn't had a playdate before.

Mikie's best friend at school is Connor. And, since Connor's parents had recently done us a huge favor watching Mikie while I was sick, I felt like we should have Connor over for a playdate.

A playdate would have been an adventure in and of itself. I mean, two active four year olds (or, almost four in Mikie's case) against parents who have never dealt with more than one child at a time. But, our first playdate couldn't just be some run-of-the-mill-come-over-to-our-house afternoon. No, I decided we should all go to the CIRCUS!

In my defense, I was drunk at the time I suggested this plan. But, after the alcohol had worn off and I had slept on it for a week, the idea still sounded fun. After all, Mikie loves the circus. . . Mikie loves spending time with Connor. And, taking both kids to the circus meant I didn't have to plan activities for them to do all day when they got bored playing with the same stuff.

So, $177 later, I had bought four adult tickets to the circus (because Ringling Bros. considers you an adult if you are over the age of two), which included parking.

The big day rolled around. After picking up Connor, we headed off to the circus. We were an hour and a half early, which meant we had time to see the animals and the pre-show. Half of the arena is closed off with make-shift pens to house all the circus animals. It's a big area (since it is an arena), and somewhat chaotic since there are lots of parents and their kids running around trying to see the animals. They let you walk through before hand and see them up close. They have handlers on hand to tell you all about them. Connor's parents had told me that he likes to run off, so I spent all of my time trying to keep a hand (or at least an eye) on Connor while Mike held on to Mikie. We figured that man-on-man defense was our best approach. No joke, both kids were done seeing the animals in under ten minutes. They were both obsessed with the souvenir stand that was "conveniently" set up at the entrance and exit to the animal exhibit. So, against my better judgement, I let them each pick out a souvenir before the show. I was hoping it would keep them entertained throughout the rest of the event (even though I knew I would not be that lucky).

$41 later, Connor was the proud owner of two zebras (mom and baby), and Mikie walked away with a twirling dancing, light-up elephant toy. Interestingly enough, Mikie picked the exact same toy LAST time we went to the circus. So, NEXT time, we will be smart enough to bring it with us.

On to the pre-show. Again, our man-on-man defense worked well. I went with Connor to help a juggling clown. We met up with Mike and Mikie to dress up as circus performers, before catching Asia, the painting elephant. At this point in time, Connor asked for the one drink that they do not sell at the circus - - orange juice. I know this for a fact, because, not wanting the kid to have a bad time, I spent 10 minutes looking. I did find a Tropicana vending machine. But, it was empty. I guess the circus personnel figured what kid would want orange juice when they can have a rainbow colored snow cone in a zebra cup. $7.50 later, I returned with a large orange flavored soda (conveniently, they didn't have small or medium sizes) and a water. Although Connor did not like orange flavored soda, Mike took one for the team and drank it. Mikie, thankfully, was willing to share his water with his friend.

All of this activity brought us to the start of the show. As we walked to our seats, Connor decided that he wanted an elephant to go with his zebras. Knowing this would not be the end of the requests for stuff, I told him "Maybe later."

Let me take this opportunity to mention that Connor, in addition to being Mikie's best friend, is the youngest child of one of the VPs at Crabtree. So my motivation for keeping him happy was probably greater than most kids. First was the obvious: I don't want to hear the kid whine all day. Second: I don't want the kid to go home and complain that he had a bad time. Because, unlike other parents who I would only see at daycare during pick-up and drop-off, I have to work with Connor's dad. In hindsight, this should have entered my brain BEFORE suggesting the playdate. Unfortunately, the thought only occurred everytime I was faced with discipling or pacifying the two children . . .

The first half of the circus seemed to keep them happy. Mikie sat in his seat, or on one of our laps, watching the show. For the most part, Connor did the same. Although, he must have thought that his seat was on the floor, or in the aisle in front of us, since he and his zebras seemed to hang over the empty seat in front of them for a good part of the first act. As soon as intermission hit, Connor started to leave. I told him that the show wasn't over yet, and he said he needed an elephant. Trying to keep both kids in their seats (since, even if I wanted to get him the elephant now, there was no way we would get back before they started the second act), I promised we would get an elephant when the show was over.

And so began the longest second act of my life. Every five minutes, Connor turned to me to ask "Is it over yet?" or "Can we go now?" I slowly began to understand why many of the parents around me had gotten beers at the concession stand during intermission.

Eventually, the show ended. And, by this point, Mikie wanted a light-up sword. So, we ventured back to the souvenir stand. $50 later, we had one elephant and one light-up sword. I was smart enough to know that these toys were Mike and my tickets out of there. Holding the bags hostage, I promised each child could have their newest toy when they got in the car. It's not bribery, it's an incentive. . .

In addition to the loot the kids picked out, we also purchased two copies of a photo of Mikie and Connor posing on the Ringling Bros. elephant (see picture below), and two matching Ringling Bros. t-shirts. And one funnel cake for Mike and I, since you can't get funnel cake every day. This brought our grand total to: $348.50. Excluding gas.Shortly after we arrived home, I decided I was done with playdates. Or, at least, THIS playdate. Since the boys were playing nicely, Mike left to go to the grocery store. I made them each a sandwich (their request, although we were prepared to go to Friendly's), which neither one wanted to eat because they were "playing". Five minutes later, Connor was trying to break into the pantry (we keep it locked). I opened it up so he could see what was inside. He immediately took Mikie's Easter basket and helped himself to an egg. Mikie immediately took it back and told me to lock it up. He then informed Connor there weren't any more Easter eggs. Connor then decided he wanted to see Mikie's room. Mikie led him upstairs to show him his games. Five minutes later, and Connor had emptied the toy box of things Mikie hadn't played with since we moved in 18 months ago. I walked in to find him trying to break into the closet (another locked door). Not having learned my lesson the first time, I opened it up to show him it just had clothes in it. Alas, he saw some stuffed animals and old Halloween costumes that he wanted to play with.
Next thing I knew, Mike had returned from the store to find the two boys running around downstairs. I was upstairs, struggling to clean up the path of destruction left in their wake and bring down the toys Mikie told me they "needed" to play with downstairs.

It was now 7pm. We had the pleasure of Connor's company for a full 6 1/2 hours. Since he was refusing to eat the sandwich I had made (or anything else I was volunteering to make for him), I decided it was time to end this playdate. Since Mikie hadn't napped, Mike suggested I drive Connor home (40 minutes away) by myself so that he could get Mikie to bed. Connor sold out for the promise of watching a movie in the car. Mikie, unfortunately, was hysterical that he couldn't come too (although I think he was more upset that he couldn't watch the movie than he was about Connor leaving).

Which brings us to now. It is 10pm. All the children are asleep in their own houses. Mike is enjoying the Red Sox game in the midst of a living room full of toys. I am downing a Fuzzy Navel while reflecting on the day's events. What are the lessons I have learned? First, playdates to the circus are not a good idea, unless you are willing to shell out some serious cash. I shudder to think what could have been purchased with the money we gave Ringling Bros. today. Second, a playdate with a coworker's child is a dangerous thing. Odds are, you will feel guilted into spoiling the child so as not to ruin your relationship with the coworker. Lastly (and most importantly) NEVER embark on a playdate unless you are POSITIVE that you like the other child.

All kidding aside, I am sure we will have Connor over again. It just may not be before we have a finished basement that we can lock them in to wreak havoc on and not worry about the consequences. Which won't be for a while, given the shear amount of money spent on this first playdate. . .

Love, The Trahans

Modesty Thy Name Is Mikie

This morning, Mikie was looking awfully cute in his Bruins hat and new t-shirt. He is known for his amusing shirts at school.

As he came down the stairs, I laughed and said to him, "Mikie, you're so cute." To which Mikie responded, "And I'm smart too."

Obviously, we can rest assured that we are doing a good job with positive reinforcement. Of course, if his ego gets any bigger, he might not be able to fit his head in that hat anymore.

He must get this from his father, because everyone knows that I am the image of humility. . . and I'm smart too.

Love, The Trahans

Dinner Conversation

Usually, our dinner conversation is pretty mundane. Mike and I try and get Mikie to tell us what he did at school, usually to no avail. And, since Mike had turned the Bruins game on, I wasn't expecting much conversation this evening either. Boy, was I in for a surprise.

Mikie had just finished watching a Scooby Doo cartoon where the gang were at a wrestling arena. After it was over, he showed me his "wrestling moves" and was trying to convince me to wrestle him. Luckily, Mike came home, so we postponed wrestling until after dinner. However, as you can tell from the conversation below, wrestling was still on his mind. . .

Mikie: "Mom, I want to go to the wrestling place."

Mom: "Mommy doesn't want you to go because what if you get boo-boos?"

Mikie: "I won't get boo-boos at MY wrestling place."

Mom: "Where is this wrestling place?"

Mikie: "It's all the way at the end of the earth."

Mom: "How do we get there?"

Mikie: "You go over the water. . . then over the OTHER water. . . then past the COWBOY place. . . and past the HOCKEY place. . . then all the way to the wrestling place."

Mom: "How are we going to get there if we have to go over the water?"

Mikie: "You need to drive something that floats."

Mom: "What do we take when we go past the cowboy place?"

Mikie: "Then you drive a car all the way to the wrestling place."

Mom: "Where are we going to get something that floats?"

Mikie: "We need a big boat. We can get a big boat from my HOUSE."

Mom: looking around "This is YOUR house, right?"

Mikie: "Yeah."

Mom: "Where do you think we're hiding a big boat?"

Mikie: "It's hiding under our grass. We have to dig for it."

Mom: "Using a shovel?"

Mikie: scratching at the air "No, we have to dig for it using our HANDS."

At this point, Mike is scribbling frantically to capture the whole dialogue, and I am about to turn blue trying to fight back laughter. Luckily, Mikie didn't notice and continued his explanation of the hunt for the big boat. . .

Mikie: "How are we going to break this earth?"

Mom: "I still think we could use shovels."

Mikie: "No. We're going to have to lift this house up."

Mom: "Who has muscles strong enough to lift this house? Are your muscles strong enough?"

Mikie: "No."

Mom: "So who's going to lift this house?"

Mikie: "You and Daddy."

Mom: "My muscles can barely lift you!"

Mikie: "Can they lift a house?"

Of course! I mean, I can't lift a child weighing 40-lbs, but I'm sure I can lift a two story house!

There was only one way to answer that question and put an end to the conversation. . .

Mom: "I don't know, but we can go outside and try after we finish our dinner."

Just in case you were wondering, I was NOT able to lift the house (I know, and I look so strong). So, we are going to have to find alternate means of procuring a boat.

Love, The Trahans

Ice Skating

Mikie has become quite the skater. As you can see in the video, he skates all by himself now. This makes skating much easier on Mike's back and mine.

Unfortunately, I think all the hockey games he has seen are having a bad influence on him. Last week, he was one of three kids who showed up for the ice skating class:

Charlie is younger than Mikie. He can actually "glide", versus Mikie who still shuffles his feet. But, he lacks some confidence, so he tends to just stand in one place a lot. Of course, he also wears a hockey helmet, complete with cage, that seems a bit too big (I don't know how well he can see with it resting on his shoulders).

Ernie (not his real name, but he wears a Sesame Street bike helmet every week) can't stand on his skates to save his life. This drives his mother crazy (she has literally yelled at him "Come on, this is the fourth lesson, you should be able to do this!")

But I digress. Back to the story. Mikie looked like Apollo Anton Ohno in comparison to the other two boys. By no means was he going fast, he just made it across the ice before the other two even moved. Unfortunately for Charlie and Ernie, Mikie seemed to realize his superiority on skates and skated up to the other two and told them to follow him. I'm sure the teacher must have felt really good about this at the time, being that she had been trying to get all three of them to listen to her. . .

As if that wasn't bad enough, Mikie went over to Charlie, grabbed him by the cage of his helmet, pulled his face right up to his and said "Skate!"
We did tell him (without laughing) that it isn't nice to boss around the other kids. Or grab them by their helmets. Real hockey players have to go in time out for that.

Somehow, I fear that his future as a hockey player may include a fair amount of time in the penalty box. . .

Go Bruins.

Love, The Trahans

Simple Pleasures

It's a bird. . . it's a plane. . . no, it's a SPACE MONKEY!!!

It's amazing what amuses kids. The owner of the daycare recently told me that he felt justified in increasing the tuition by "purchasing" some new toys for the kids. . .

Mikie's toy monkey (aka, the daycare monkey that he adopted a few months ago) now has his own space suit to better equip him for his adventures in space.
As you can see, Space Monkey has his own "helmet" (plastic cup with drawn on smiley face) and "jet pack" (cut up toilet paper roll secured to waist with a rubber band). I am not sure if it could withstand a solar flare, but it seems to hold up against the pommelling of an adoring three year old.

If only I had known in December that a cup, toilet paper roll, and rubber band would amuse my son more than any other toy, I could have saved a lot of money.

Love, The Trahans

Snakes & Snails

Remember the old saying:

Snakes and Snails and Puppy Dogs Tails
That's what little boys are made of.

Boy, were they right. Once again, we sent Mikie off to school looking clean and handsome. Appropriately, he was wearing his "Big Trouble Comes In Small Packages" shirt (which amuses all the staff at daycare).

I think that my child has some magnetic attraction for dirt. The little girls may have toussled hair, but their white stockings are still white, and their faces pristine. Even the other boys look more tidy than Mikie by 5pm. This evening, Mikie took dirty to a new level. The soles of his socks were covered in dirt and wood chips (how this is possible when his shoes were on his feet is a mystery). His hands looked like they had been dipped in dirt: dirt covering the backs and palms, clinging into ever crease and fold, embedded deep under his nails. His face gave new meaning to "five o'clock shadow": the makings of a dirt beard and moustache surrounding his mouth. And, to complete the look: a runny nose.

His teacher's response: "At least you know he had fun."

With Mikie, I never need to worry that he isn't having fun. What I need to worry about is my water bill, as I have to repeatedly wash him and his clothes multiple times a day.

Love, The Trahans

Shopping

Last night, Mikie and I drove to Ann Taylor Loft after work. I had to exchange a shirt from my mom, and didn't want to wait any longer as it had been almost 3 months since she bought it for me.

As we got out of the car, I knew we were in for an adventure. As per his usual, Mikie managed to get himself as disgusting as possible at school. In spite of his cute attire (striped polo shirt and khaki pants), his hair was sticking out in many directions. His face had a mysterious brown substance on it (still not sure if it was chocolate pudding or mud). And, his hands were sticky from grabbing his partially consumed lolly pop by the wrong end.

Before entering the store, I told him "Don't touch anything in here." The last thing I wanted was to be forced to buy a pair of white trousers with sticky brown substance on them, that, with my luck, wouldn't even be my size.

He played with his new helicopter on the floor while we waited in line to make the return. Of course, the ever helpful sales girl asked if I would prefer to pick something else out as an exchange rather than ringing up the store credit. Looking at Mikie (who at this point was landing the helicopter onto the display of sunglasses), I told her we would attempt to shop, but that I wanted the store credit now in case we needed to make a quick exit.

Mikie dutifully followed me through the store as I looked for new clothes. Always vain, he loved the big mirrors mounted randomly throughout the store. Similar to his Auntie Katie, he derived pleasure hiding between the racks of pants in the clearance section. At one point, I looked back to find him standing in the middle of the store, holding a mannequin's hand, looking up curiously at the space where it's head should be. I kept calling his name, telling him to come help me, to no avail. He finally turned to me and yelled across the store:

Mikie: "Mom, none of these people have heads."

Mom: "I know."

Mikie: "I think they all got shooted off."

Mom: "No, I think they never had heads in the first place."

I quickly distracted him by pointing out a really big mirror, before dragging him off to the dressing room so I could try on my selections.

As we entered the dressing room, I told Mikie I needed him to tell me what looked pretty. As he sat down on the bench, he looked at his clothes and said:

Mikie: "These pants fit pretty great. I should wear them every day. And my shirt matches too."

Not exactly what I meant, but I guess I should have been more clear. As I tried on clothes, Mr. Vanity inspected his reflection in the mirror. Until he heard voices coming from another dressing room. At which point, he sat on the floor, trying to look out the door. Of course, I banished him to the corner so he couldn't look at other people changing (luckily, the walls run straight to the floor). At this point, he found a "hockey puck" (aka, button) which provided endless amounts of amusement while I continued to play dress-up.

All things considered, he was pretty well behaved. I don't think the young, pert, petite sales girl who obviously had no children of her own appreciated him much. But, with the exception of a mannequin's hand and the button he stole, he didn't touch anything.

Happy shopping.

Love, The Trahans

Boys vs. Girls

Last week, before leaving for work, I told Mikie that we both needed to use the bathroom before leaving for work. A lot of times, he insists that he doesn't need to go, only to make me pull over half way to work because he has to "go pee-pee on the road". When I make it a rule that both of us need to follow, he seems to be more receptive.

So, I stood in line, waiting my turn to use the bathroom as Mikie went in and started to pee. He looked back at me and said "Come on, Mom. You can go too."

Alas, I had to explain that, unlike Daddy, I could not pee standing up. The girls have to sit down to use the potty. Of course, that warranted the standard "Why?" I explained that girls don't have penises, only boys do, all the while praying that he would not ask "Why" again.

Thankfully, he seemed content knowing he was special, and let me use the bathroom in peace. And, more importantly, forestalling the involved conversation of anatomy for a time when he is (hopefully) much older.

Love, The Trahans

Mikie-isms

When my child became such a smart alec, I don't know. He must get it from his father.

Mikie came out of the bathroom this evening, and I knew he hadn't flushed the toilet or washed his hands. I told him to turn around, go back into the bathroom, and wash his hands. Obviously, I must have been speaking in toungues, because Mikie didn't listen (what else is new). So, I pulled the ultimate threat: you have until the count of five to go back and wash your hands or you're going to bed right now. Usually, this works. This time, Mikie turned with a smirk on his face and yelled "One Two Three Four Five!"

After taking a minute to compose myself (I was trying not to laugh hysterically), I started counting. As soon as I said one, Mikie did run to the bathroom and wash his hands. Of course, when I went in to use the bathroom later, I found the seat up and the toilet bowl full of urine. I guess it was my own fault, since I didn't instruct him to flush the toilet or close the seat. Hindsight is twenty-twenty.

As if that wasn't funny enough, Mikie came up with a new reason not to go to sleep tonight. Mike had put him to bed, and 30 minutes later, I heard a door open. I went to the bottom of the stairs, and heard a little voice, sitting at the top of the stairs say "Hi, mom". When I got upstairs, Mikie looked up at me and said "Mom, I can't sleep." Before I could ask why, he said "If I keep sleeping all the time, I will turn into a bed." He should write a book of all the bedtime excuses he has come up with.

After explaining that your body needs sleep to build muscles and brain cells, he told me he wanted to sleep so he could be strong like a real hockey player. I am sure that won't work ever again, but at least he went to sleep tonight.

I can't wait to see what he comes up with tomorrow. . .

Love, The Trahans

The Favorite Toy

This weekend is Mikie's friend, Connor's, birthday party. Mike, being a male, insisted on doing the shopping because he "knows boys" better than I do. Forget the fact that I work with Connor's dad, talk with Connor's mom most mornings at daycare, and see Connor when I drop Mikie off in the morning. Not to mention I did give birth to a boy. None of this qualifies me for shopping for little boys.

So, Mike purchased two Transformers. Mikie was asleep when the shopping trip occurred, so he did not see what we bought. And, knowing that he likes Transformers (and most action figures), we didn't bother telling him what we bought.

Fast forward to this morning. I was trying to convince Mikie into putting on his jacket and leaving for school with me. He told me he had a new toy that was his favorite that he wanted to bring to school. The conversation continued like this:

Mikie: "Mom, I'm going to bring my new favorite toy to school because it's my favorite."

Mom: "What is it?"

Mikie: "It's my favorite 'cause its the best"

Mom: "Where is it so we can get it and leave for school."

Mikie: "It's my red Transformer."

Now, I am confused, because I know of only two Transformers that we own: a black one, and a cement mixer that Mike found from when he was a kid that, as far as I can tell, is not red. And so the conversation continues:

Mom: "You don't have a red Transformer."

Mikie: "Yes I do."

Mom: "Where is it?"

Mikie: "It's my red Transformer Car in your closet."

Okay, it's 7:30 in the morning, and my brain isn't completely awake. But, after a few seconds, I realize that he is talking about the birthday present for Connor that is hidden in my closet.

Mom: "Mikie, those aren't your cars. We bought those for Connor's birthday party. (Quickly realizing this could spoil any surprise. . . ) And it's a SURPRISE so you CAN'T tell him."

Mikie: whining "But I want them."

Somehow, I got his coat on him and forced him out the door. There may have been some vague promise about getting him a Transformer on another day. To which he responded, "Then I will have TWO red Transformer cars."

Note to self: put a keyed lock on the attic door before Christmas.

Love, The Trahans

SUGAR!!!!!

Different states have different festivities they are known for. In DC, April is the month of the Cherry Blossoms. In Massachusetts, March is Sugaring month.

Sugaring is the process of collecting and making maple syrup. And, after going to a sugar house this weekend, I have a renewed sense of appreciation for maple syrup.

To create maple syrup, you start with a maple tree. Evidently, you can use any maple tree, not just a sugar maple. At night, when the temperature drops, the sap freezes inside the trunk of the tree. During the day when the temperatures rise, the sap condenses and creates a presure inside the tree. If you tap the maple tree, you can collect the sap and use it to make maple syrup, and other yummy maple confections.

Sounds easy enough. But, it is the most labor intensive process. First of all, the sap doesn't exactly "flow" out of the tree. I would describe it as a faucet that has a slow drip when it is in the off position. Plus, because harvesting it is so temperature dependent, there are only about 4 weeks when you can harvest the sap. And, 100 gallons of sap only yields about 2 gallons of syrup!

The tour was very entertaining, even without Mikie's antics. The video included clips of adults and kids who run sugar houses. The first woman on the clip announced "Massachusetts is THE place for maple syrup. I mean, I know Vermont and New Hampshire make it too, but when I think of syrup, I think of Massachusetts." Ironic, since Vermont is the number one producer of maple syrup in the US with 250,000 gallons, followed by New York. Massachusetts produces less than 100,000 gallons annually. There were also some young men (12 going on 40) who produce about 2 gallons of maple syrup each season, but have long term plans to "take a few years off to relax, and then open some more sugar houses when they hit 20 or 30."

While the adults in the group (Mike, myself, and our friends, Josh & Kristin) enjoyed the tour and explanations of the process, Mikie was less enthusiastic. Before the 18 minute video, Mikie raised his hand to tell the guide that he saw flies in the barn window. At the end of the video, he told the same guide that he wanted popcorn (which was even more amusing since he had never eaten popcorn before). We convinced him to continue on the tour with us with the promise of maple sugar candy at the end.

In the next stage, where we learned how to drill and tap a tree. Mikie was more interested in the ladybug he found on the floor. He kept pointing to the ladybug, before finally determining (and announcing loudly enough for the whole room to hear) "This ladybug is DEAD, Mom."

Finally, we got to the kid friendly part, the tapping of the tree. Mikie was thrilled to join the bigger kids and use the hand drill. And, he was very careful to use the hammer to hit the tap, not the man holding it in place. He was even careful carrying his bucket of sap to the sugar house. However, after dumping the sap into the main tank of the sugar house, he was officially done with the tour. He put his bucket on his head, which left him a bit sugar coated. By the time we finished and were offered our maple sugar confections, Mikie announced that he wanted chocolate instead.

We left with some sugaring supplies: a tap and a helmet for Mikie, which doubles as a bucket to collect sap in when Mikie is willing to part with it.

The moral of the story: if you're three, maple syrup is better enjoyed at home on pancakes than in the woods.

Love, The Trahans

Life as a Hockey Mom

We have been taking Mikie ice skating for a while now. He is actually on his second pair of ice skates (although, it is purely because his feet grow too fast, not because he wore them out). After only a few time on the ice, we are able to loosely hold one hand and skate beside him while he walks in his skates. His biggest desire: to play hockey like a real hockey player, on ice skates, with a stick. And, while they do offer an intro to ice hockey class for kids three and up, you have to complete one of the learn to skate classes first.

How could I deny a three year old's dream? I couldn't. So, I searched every ice skating rink in the states of Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island until I found the ONE and only rink that offered the learn to skate class for three year olds on the weekend (evidently, most hockey moms do not work and can take their kids ice skating at 11am on a Tuesday).

Luckily for Mike and I, the rink is only 45 minutes away. And, since they had a 10am class, we only have to wake up by 7:30am to get ready and get to class in time. Barring snow storms.

The first weekend, Mike got up, cleared the driveway of about a foot of snow, and we drove to class. Unfortunately, we got there only to find out that class didn't start until the following Saturday (something which should have been clarified in the registration paperwork).

The second weekend, Mike got up, cleared TWO driveways (ours and our neighbor who's husband was out of town and had just had surgery on her hand) of about six inches of snow. We drove to class in horrendous conditions (it was still snowing and the plows really weren't running yet) for a 25 minute lesson. If that isn't dedication, I don't know what is.

The class is quite entertaining. The first lesson was quite a challenge. The teacher made all the kids sit on the ice. Then, they had to sit on their knees. From there, they all put one leg up, and pushed off the ice into a standing position. If you're three, listening and following directions are challenging enough. Because he couldn't get himself back up, Mikie grabbed the teacher's hand for a lift. Unfortunately, once he had it, he was slow to let go.
By the end of the second lesson, Mikie managed to push himself up after falling, and took steps unassisted on the ice.

The verdict is still out if the 25 minutes of ice time is worth the money and the mileage. Hopefully, seeing his face when he gets out on the ice with a hockey stick will make it all worth while.

Love, The Trahans

The Distinguished Gentleman

Lately, Mikie has been obsessed with Scooby Doo. We have some Scooby Doo books. We make up pretend Scooby Doo adventures to solve the mystery. We have a Scooby Doo video game for our V-Smile. And, of course, we have some Scooby Doo movies.

When I picked up Mikie on Friday afternoon, he had been sharing his Scooby Doo book, and telling everyone that they could come to his house to watch his Scooby Doo movie. Before I left, his teacher came over to tell me an amusing Mikie anecdote. Evidently, Mikie told Ms. Kelly that she could drive home with him and watch Scooby Doo on the TVs in his car. She said thank you, but asked him how she was going to get back to her house if she drove home with him. His answer, "You can walk."

Knight in shining armour he is not.

Love, The Trahans

March Snow

Evidently, March snow is much better than other snow. We got about 8 inches on March 1st. After returning from Mikie's first ice skating lesson, Mike and Mikie decided to build a snowman. Since losing a boot in the two-foot snowstorm we had in December, Mikie has not been keen to do anything other than eat snow. So, I didn't expect them to be outside long. However, after finishing Frosty, Mikie decided that he wanted to go sledding. And, the sled run looked so much fun, Mike and I took turns sledding too. Click on the photo below to see some of the video:

Here is a picture of Mike and Mikie with Frosty. Without any carrots or coal on hand, we had to improvise, using a piece of candy cane for the nose and chocolate pieces for the eyes. If you click on the photo, you can view some video of the "construction".

While I admired their work, Mikie came over to tell me "the secret".

Mikie: "Mom, I have a secret, but you can't tell the snowman. He's going to melt."

He did last for a week, before the snow started to melt. Although, evidently other animals than Mikie like chocolate and candy canes, because the snowman was missing his eyes and nose by the next evening.

Happy sledding.

Love, The Trahans

Duck. . . Duck. . .

When I dropped Mikie off at daycare last week, the kids were playing Duck, Duck, Goose. I don't know if Mikie had ever played before, but it had all the elements to become his new favorite game: tapping/hitting people on the head, running, throwing oneself on the floor.

Later that night, Mikie told Mike all about this new game. As with most games, Mikie wanted us to play. I wish our camcorder was working, because I don't know that I can do it justice describing the scene. Imagine Mike and I sitting in a "circle" (translation: sitting across from each other). Mikie walked around us, patting us on the head in turn saying "Duck. . . Duck. . . Duck. . . Duck. . . Goose". We would get up and chase him around the "circle" (translation: the sole person remaining in a seated position), until he decided to sit down.

During the third or fourth round of Duck, Duck, Goose, Mike was the "ducker". Mikie looked like he was going to pee his pants with anticipation over who Mike would pick. From that moment on, he started squealing "GOOSE ME, DAD!" everytime Mike was the ducker.

It brings a whole new meaning to the game. . .

Love, The Trahans

Bedtime Ritual

Every day, Mikie reminds me of my sister, Katie, a little more. His looks, to an extent. His outgoing personality. Everytime I have to say the words "Mikie, No!", I think back to the number of times my parents yelled "Katie, No!". Every morning that Mikie won't get out of bed, I think of Katie yelling "5 more minutes" to anyone who tried to wake her from her beauty sleep. Everytime Mikie tries to convince me of something I don't want him to eat, I think of my toddler sister trying to convince our Grandfather that you CAN put butter on a hotdog.

The latest in Mikie/Katie parallel: the bedtime ritual. Oh how vividly I remember the evening serenade "I need a drink of water". Followed, 10-15 minutes later by an open bedroom door, my mother yelling "Katie, get back in your room", with my sister arguing "But I have to use the bathroom!"

Unlike Katie, Mikie seems to have adopted this ritual at an earlier age. Every evening, within ten minutes of Mike closing his bedroom door, a voice calls down the stairs "Daa-aad, I need a drink of waa-ter." It is especially funny since he has a bottle of water next to the head of his bed.

Ten minutes after Mike puts him to bed the SECOND time, a similar voice sings "Daa-aad, I need to use the pot-ty." Depending on Mike's mood, he may simply yell up, "Turn on the light, go use the bathroom, flush when you are done, turn out the light, and go back to bed!" (You have to list every step, or he will run back to bed without flushing.) If he is in a good mood, he'll go up the stairs to supervise.

Ten minutes after returing to bed the THIRD time, you may hear a voice asking "Dad, are the Patriots on TV? 'Cause I love the Patriots." (Die hard New Englander, or Brown Nose, you be the judge.)

If he were REALLY smart, he would start asking about the Red Sox. He might get further.

Love,
The Trahans

Happy Birthday to Me

Well, in the grand scheme of things, turning 30 was definitely momentous. I mean, I can't remember any other time I had a fever of 103.8. And, I can't remember the last time I gave blood on my birthday.

On the plus side, Mike and Mikie worked very hard to make my birthday a pleasant memory. I was well enough in the morning to drive Mikie to daycare for his Valentine's Day party. Of course, being sick, I was wearing long underwear, sweatpants I have had since college, a sweatshirt, two pairs of slipper socks, winter boots, an old oversized wool coat (the only one that would fit over my many layers), and to complete my ensemble, a pink Red Sox winter hat. Sorry, I don't have any pictures to share, you'll have to use your imagination. Obviously, I wasn't trying to make a fashion statement. But, I guess your child thinks you're beautiful no matter what. Because, my son ran straight into daycare and announced to everyone (including parents I have never met) "It's Mommy's Birthday!" My only saving grace was that he did not know how old I was.

After the humiliation of daycare, and another trip to the doctor's, I returned home to Mike and Mikie. Mikie had a theme to his gifts for me. There was a monkey statue, which Mikie selected and painted himself. Well, he actually fell asleep while Mike painted it, but it's the thought that counts. Mike also painted me a flower shaped picture frame as a gift, so he had twice as much work.

In addition to the monkey statue, Mikie picked out a monkey card. He made a point of showing me that the monkey on the card was "fuzzy" and came complete with a monkey pin that I could wear. In keeping with the monkey theme, Mike got me a Valentine's Day card with a monkey on it.

On a more serious side, Mike tried hard to make the day special. He had a bouquet of tulips and crocuses delivered to work. And, since I was too sick to go to work, he drove all the way there to pick them up for me so I could enjoy them while they were alive. My big present (and the reason I am blogging right now), is that he bought me a laptop, complete with wireless card and wireless router. So, while I have been sick in bed, I was able to stay connected to the internet. And, while we watch TV at night, I can update the blog without feeling like I am ostracized to another room.

So, in spite of feeling (and looking) like a zombie, turning 30 was painless. With the exception of giving blood while dehydrated. . . that stung. I guess it can only get better from here.

Love,
The Trahans

Chicken Little

I apologize in advance to our friend's, Chris and Christine. But, this story was too funny not to post.

Our good friends, Chris and Christine, have a son, Matthew, who is 4 months younger than Mikie. It's great because we can get together and the boys entertain each other. Although, I've noticed some differences.

Matthew and Chris came to visit one weekend. Mikie was thrilled to show Matthew his "Whac-a-Mole" toy. The toy is noisy on its own. Add to the lights and sounds, Mikie with a hammer yelling "BAM" every time he hits the innocent mole (or gopher as he calls it). Matthew ran up to me informing me that it was "too loud". Welcome to my world. Being a nice friend (at least for that moment), Mikie set down his hammer for a quieter game they both were interested in playing.

Evidently, personality isn't the only thing that differentiates these two. We spent last weekend visiting the Ryans. Mikie, fully potty trained, stopped playing to use the potty. Matthew, still learning, was interested in watching Mikie pee. The first potty break went without incidence. Later in the evening, Mikie had to go again, and Matthew stood right next to the bowl to get a closer look. Mid stream, Matthew points to Mikie's penis and announces, "You have a big chicken. Matthew's chicken is little." Mikie, looked down to see what Matthew was talking about and announced "That's not a chicken, that's my penis".

Of course, I was laughing to the point of crying. While I had heard that Matthew referred to a certain part of his anatomy as his "chicken", I never expected him to size up Mikie's. And, I didn't think Mikie would figure out what Matthew was referring to either.

Love,
The Trahans

And the Oscar Goes To . . .

Michael Christopher Trahan, for his role in "Bedtime".

We had promised Mikie he could stay up and watch the football players and Tom Brady (whom he says is the Greatest Football Player, when he isn't arguing that he plays for the Red Sox). By the end of the 1st quarter, I could not deal with the jumping off the furniture, stealing of my pillows and blankets, and overall insanity that comes with an overly tired three year old. And, since Mike (who has more patience than I and who usually oversees bedtime) would not be pulled away from the TV before half-time, I went to put Mikie to bed.

Of course, the words "Let's go brush your teeth" were like a death sentence, and I had to force Mike to carry the child upstairs during a commercial break. Somehow, during the ordeal, Mikie managed to kick off his pajama pants and underwear. Feeling confident that I could "handle" the situation, I told Mike to go watch the game. Ha ha. After letting him roll around naked for a few minutes, I forced him back into his underwear and pajamas. This only seemed to enrage him more. In a fit, Mikie told me he was "not going to play with me anymore!" I can hold a grudge better than anyone, so far be it from me to let a three year old upstage me. I told him "Fine. Goodnight." and turned and left the room. Here are some of the things you could hear being yelled through the door of his bedroom:

"I AM GOING TO THROW ALL MY CHANCES IN THE GARBAGE FOR THE DAMAGE YOU HAVE DONE TO ME!"

"I AM NOT GOING TO BE YOUR FRIEND ANYMORE!"

"I AM GOING TO PLAY BY MYSELF."

"I AM GOING TO WATCH SCOOBY DOO ALL BY MYSELF."

"MOMMY, YOU ARE GOING TO JAIL. THE POLICEMEN ARE GOING TO TAKE YOU AWAY FOR ALL THE DAMAGE YOU HAVE DONE TO ME!"

I don't know if it was half-time, or if Mikie's yelling was interfering with Mike's enjoyment of the game, because at some point during this tirade, Mike came back upstairs. Ever the grown-up, I was laughing in my bedroom, trying to commit to memory some of the more amusing statements, wishing the camcorder wasn't broken. Immediately after he entered the room, Mikie told Mike:

"You're my best friend, Daddy. You and I can watch Scooby Doo with me but not mommy 'cause Mommy was mean to me. Mommy is going to jail for all the damage she has done to me."

Just for the record, the next morning, he wanted me to get up and get him milk and make him pancakes for breakfast and watch "Super Why" with him. When I asked him if we were friends again, he said "Yeah. You're my best friend, Mommy." So, either he needs to work on his grudge holding capabilities, or he is using me for my ability to reach the maple syrup.

I don't know where he picks up these phrases. If only I had the camcorder, I could have at least won some money on "America's Funniest Home Videos" or "Kids Say the Darndest Things".

Love,
The Trahans

Top 3 Funniest Mikie Stories

In honor of the New Year (and late night TV being back on air), I figured I would do my own countdown. Here it it: The Top Three Unblogged Mikie Stories of 2007.

#3: Champion Hot Dog Eater

Mikie loves to eat at Friendly's. Every time we go, he orders a hotdog with ketchup and mustard. And, assuming he eats all the hotdog, he orders a "Chocolate Monster Ice Cream" for dessert. Over the Christmas holiday, we decided to go out to Friendly's for lunch, and then go bowling. Mikie finished half of his hotdog and told us he wanted to leave, that he wasn't hungry. We told him he wouldn't get any ice cream, but he didn't seem to care. So, when the waitress came over, we told her we would take the ice cream to go. We told Mikie if he ate all his dinner later, he could have the ice cream.

All of the sudden, it dawned on him that we really weren't going to give him his ice cream. In less than a second, four pieces of hotdog were shoved in his mouth, with two more in his hands ready to be shoved in.

Since he devoured the hotdog in less time than the waitress took to walk back to the kitchen, we were able to get Mikie's ice cream. Evidently, if he wants a career eating hotdogs, all you need to pay him with is Friendly's ice cream.

#2: Peeing at Panera

We had stopped at Panera Bread for dinner before going to a Christmas party at our friends' house. Mike tried to take Mikie to use the bathroom while I stood in line to order our food. Evidently, Mikie did not have to go, so they sat at a booth with their drinks while I waited for the food. As I walked over with the first of our trays, I noticed Mike was frantically trying to get my attention.

Mike: "Hurry up, you have to go get your son."

Lauren: "Where is he?"

Mike: "He just walked into the women's bathroom."

I ran into the bathroom to find Mikie checking all the empty stalls. I asked him if he had to use the potty, if not, he shouldn't be in there. As I lectured him, he walked into a stall, pulled down his pants, and started peeing (stall door wide open, cheeks bared for the world to see). We washed our hands and left.

When we returend to the table, I threw Mike a "Why didn't you take him into the men's room" look. He told me, "We were sitting here, waiting for you. All of the sudden, Mikie tells me 'Watch my drink, Dad.' Before I could react, he got up and walked into the women's bathroom."

#1: Mikie, The Dog Lover

We went over to our friends' house for Matt's 30th birthday. They have two dogs, Fergie and Franklin. Franklin was the most behaved dog ever, and seemed content to follow Mikie every where he ran. Click on the picture below to see some footage:

What we didn't realize was Franklin had an ulterior motive: when Mikie stopped moving (which was infrequent), Franklin tried to hump him.

At one point in the party, Mikie was tired from running and dramatically threw himself down on the floor in exhaustion. Franklin jumped at the opportunity and started humping Mikie's head! I was laughing so hard, I couldn't even make it over to help him. Mike rescued him, instructing him to stay on his feet. Mikie, completely unphased (he was laughing the whole time) took off running like nothing had happened, calling for Franklin to follow him.

Here's to many more laughs in 2008!

Love, The Trahans

Christmas Morning

Unlike last year, we managed to go to bed a little earlier (although, still after midnight) and slept in later. So, Mikie woke up ready to enjoy Christmas.

To list some of the gifts that he found under the tree, Mikie received:

A REAL hockey helmet from Grandma Pookie, to go with the RPI hockey jersey and hockey skates from Santa.

A birdfeeder with bird watching book from Grandma Kerrie and Grumpy Norm. Mikie is super excited to use this one. It is one of those squirrel-proof bird feeders with a cage to prevent squirrels from eating all the bird seed. Mikie doesn't quite understand that, so he keeps talking about catching the birds to keep in his cage.

Whack-a-Mole (aka "The Gopher Game") from Gram. This has proved a favorite of Mike's too, as he now holds the fastest record at 10 seconds.

Video games for his V-Smile from Grand Da. Evidently, Grand Da picks out better games than Mom and Dad, because Mikie refused to use the thing until he got his new games. One of them is an interactive story book that connects to the TV. The day after Christmas, you could hear him say "I can't go to bed, I have to read my books". What are you supposed to say to that? No more reading, go to bed!?!

And, the most anticipated present of all. . . Santa came through with Sock 'em Sock 'em Robots (or Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots as they are known to the rest of the world). Click on the picture below to view some video footage of Mikie and Mike playing his new favorite game. Since Mattel was kind enough to cheapen up the "improved" version, I edited the video down to a little over a minute so no one other than Mike had to live the eternity of playing.

Hope Santa brought you everything on your Christmas list.

Merry Christmas.

Love, The Trahans

The Christmas Story

Now that he is three, I have been trying to teach Mikie about the real story of Christmas: how Jesus was born. So far, attempts to read his children's Bible have been futile. The pictures are cartoonish and the stories don't seem to hold his interest. Usually, part way through, he starts running around yelling "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus", and I have to explain that we shouldn't just yell His name like we yell "Meatloaf".

So, I bought a pop-up book with beautiful illustrations just for Christmas. We have been reading it a few nights a week, emphasizing that it is a special story. Unfortunately, there are many words that he didn't quite understand, so I read the story in a more Mikie-friendly context. For example, "Hail, Mary" became "Hello, Mary" and "with child" became "going to have a baby".

So, on Christmas Eve, with pop-up book in hand, we headed off to meet our friends at their church's Christmas Eve Service. It was the children's service, and I thought it would be more Mikie friendly. As we waited for the service to start, Mikie sat on Auntie Katie's lap reading his special story. All of the sudden I hear a familiar voice announce "Look, Katie. This man says 'There's no room in the hotel!'" At least the story made an impression.

Before the service began, a woman came to the front to read some announcements. She started talking about the gifts people brought to the baby Jesus, and ended by talking about what gifts we could give Him today. Her intention was to plead for donations. However, Mikie heard "gifts" and told Auntie Katie, "Katie, I could give the baby Jesus 'Sock 'em Sock 'em Robots'." Being the one gift Mikie asked Santa for on THREE separate occasions, I am sure this is the only gift he could imagine anyone ever wanting.

Of course, a few days later, when I reminded him of what he said and asked if he was going to give Jesus his game, he looked at me like I was crazy.

It's the thought that counts, right?

Merry Christmas.

Love, The Trahans

Public Indecency

Let me start by saying that Mikie has been doing a great job of using the potty. So well, that, unless I see him doing a funny dance while watching TV, I don't bother harrassing him. So well that I frequently realize he left the room and used the potty only after I hear a flushing sound.

So, when Mikie told me that he didn't need to use the potty before we left the house for work, I didn't question him. Unfortunately, about 15 minutes from our house (at least 30 minutes from daycare), I heard a little voice saying, "Mom, I have to go pee-pee on the road." I have Mike to thank for teaching Mikie about going pee-pee on the road, but that's a whole other story.

It's December, we have had record amounts of snow which sits like a small mountain on either side of the one-lane road. Short of pulling in to someone's driveway, there is no good rest stop along this stretch of road. So, I drive as fast as I safely can (translation: as fast as the guy in front of me will travel) five minutes up the road to Home Depot.

As I raced into the parking lot, praying that Mikie wasn't peeing on my leather seats, I realized that Home Depot was open. Wonderful. We could use the bathroom like civilized people, rather than pee in the parking lot. So, I pull up as close as I can get to the front entrance. Unfortunately, Mikie had other plans. As I unbuckle his seat belt and inform him of my intention to use the bathroom, he yells, "No, I have to go pee pee NOW!" No sooner did I plant his feet on the ground than I see two bare cheeks facing me.

Even though he can urinate standing up (inside and "on the road"), Mikie has not even attempted "aiming" himself. Being that I was dressed for work (slacks, nice shoes, wool winter coat), and did not want to have to change his pants and underwear in the 16 degree weather, I felt it was in my best interest to help him direct his stream away from the two of us. Standing behind him and using the car door to block him to some degree, I helped Mikie melt the snow under the car. Only after I pulled his pants up did I notice two men get in their cars next to me.

And as if being caught in the act wasn't bad enough, I noticed the following signs as I got back in the driver's seat:
So, next time you are watching YouTube, if you see a 30-year old red-head helping her son urinate in the Home Depot parking lot, please remember that one day that could be you before you forward it on to your friends.

Love, the Trahans

College Bound

Obviously, he does not get this from me, having been the model student in college.

In early December, we went to our friends' Holiday party. What makes the story even funnier is that Andy & Jenny work and live at a retirement home, so the party was in one of the common rooms at the home.

Part way through the evening, Mikie told me he had to use the potty. As per usual, he waited to the last minute to tell me, and the bathroom was already occupied. He did an excellent job of holding his bladder, and managed to only get a tiny drop in his underpants before we got into the bathroom. However, being fanatical about certain aspects of cleanliness, he insisted on a new pair of underwear. Mike went out to the car to get the new underwear, but, in the interim, Mikie wanted to go back to the party. So, I put his pajamas on him, sans underwear, and let him go back to the party, figuring that when Mike returned we would put the clean underwear on.

Unfortunately, Mikie realized that it was kind of nice to not wear any underpants. And, when Mike returned, he refused to put them on.

Twenty minutes later, Mikie was seen running around with an empty case of beer on his head (picture Animal House except substitute a Sam Adams box for the lampshade). As everyone laughed at the cute little boy running around in PJs with a beer box on his head, all I could think was what a proud moment this was for me as a mom: my three year old going commando, running around like a drunk person with a beer box on his head.

Too bad I didn't have the camera.

Love, The Trahans

The Elevator Ride

I am very behind in my blogs, and before I start blogging some of our Christmas experiences, figured I should post some of the more humorous Mikie adventures before I forget them. Last month, we took Mikie to see a Providence Bruins game. We figured it was cheaper than paying for tickets to see the Boston Bruins, and he probably wouldn't know the difference.

When I was given the tickets (they were from a vendor), she said she got them for a 1:00 game, figuring that a 7:00 game would be late for a three year old. Unfortunately, I never looked at the tickets. So, at 12:30, we were sitting in our seats, waiting for the 4:00 game to start.

Rather than sit in a cold arena for 3 1/2 hours, we walked around the corner to Providence Place Mall to eat some lunch and kill time. If you haven't been to the Providence Place Mall, street level is three levels below the actual mall stores. So, we went inside and got on the first of three escalators.

No sooner had we all gotten on, when Mikie turns and announces, "This is a Dickless ride, Mom & Dad." I was stunned, and asked what he just said. Of course, he didn't repeat himself until we got on the second escalator. He turned again and said "This ride is Dickless, Mom." At this point, I was sure I heard him correctly, and in my confusion was trying to keep from laughing in his face.

When we got on the third escalator, I finally realized he was actually saying "This ride is RIDICULOUS" minus a few sylables.

He always keeps me on my toes, that's for sure.

Love,
The Trahans

Disney World

For Mikie's third birthday, we thought it would be fun to go to Disney World. In reality, it was our five year wedding anniversary and we wanted to go somewhere on vacation. And, what better place than Disney World is there to go on a family vacation?

We survived the flight down with only minor issues. I may have threatened to throw Mikie from the plane if he didn't put his seat belt back on when it was nearing time to land. Thankfully, the majority of people on the flight were families with children (go figure, a Thursday morning flight to Orlando) so I managed to avoid the dirty looks from old men in suits. And, some helpful mother offered me a lolly pop. Actually, I think she intended it as a pacifier for Mikie, but since he didn't want it, I figured I shouldn't let it go to waste.

We paid extra to have our luggage delivered to the hotel directly from the airport. This is key when traveling with a 3 year old. Any amount of money you can pay to avoid the conveyor at baggage claim is worth it. No need to worry about him sitting on it or getting his fingers caught in it. No listening to the drone of "Mommy, is that our bag? Is that our bag? Is that our bag? Where's our bag, Mommy?" We brought our bathing suits in our carry on, and headed straight for the hotel pool to relax.
Some of you might be thinking, who goes to Disney World to hang out at the pool? After all the money you spent, you should be at the parks. These people would be the same people who either don't have kids or haven't taken them to Disney World. Mikie had no idea at this point that the pool wasn't the vacation destination. In fairness, we could have taken him to any hotel with a swimming pool, and he would have come home raving that it was the best vacation ever.

Later that evening, we ventured over to the Magic Kingdom to give Mikie a real taste of Disney World. I wanted to get some mouse ears, and figured we could catch the Light Parade and fireworks. As evidence by the picture below, Mikie was beside himself at seeing Mikie and Goofy in the light parade:Shortly thereafter, a float with the hippos from "Fantasia" came by (you know, the pink ones in tutus). Mikie turned from elated to petrified. Maybe he thought she was going to crush the crocodile (he likes alligators and crocodiles). So, we left part way through the festivities.

Thankfully, his phobia of hippos did not seem to affect his sleep. He slept like a child who ran around Disney World all day and was full of energy come Friday morning.

Love, The Trahans

Mickey Mouse's House

I need to start out this post by apologizing to my Aunt Maureen. When I was 12, my sister and I flew to California to visit my Aunt Maureen, Uncle Jimmy, and cousins James and Krista who were 6 and 3 respectively. They lived near Disney Land, and, since Katie and I had never been to any Disney park, Aunt Maureen and Uncle Jim took us all for the day.

Sometime in the early afternoon, we were forced to leave the park and drive back to the house to TAKE A NAP. When Katie and I told her we didn't take naps anymore, she told us to lay down anyway. Uncle Jimmy took us back to the park later until it closed at 1am to make up for the precious time we wasted napping. However, for the last 18 years, I have harassed her about this trip, because, what 12 year old leaves Disney Land during their first trip to take a nap?

Until last month, when Mike and I took our 3 year old to Disney World. And, I realized that while Mikie insisted he was not tired, I was exhausted. Disney World is sensory overload on a good day. Imagine trying to take in the sites while running after a 3 year old. Mike and I were physically and emotionally exhausted by the end of each day. By the end of the second day, after I swore that I could never leave my child with a perfect stranger, I broke down and hired a babysitter. On our final night there, we paid $14/hour + tip + food for a perfect stranger to watch our child while we went out to dinner. It was the most expensive date ever (cost of trip to Disney, including airfare, hotel, and park admission + cost of dinner at fancy restaurant + cost of babysitter) but was the most restful time of our stay there.

So, to Aunt Maureen, I extend my sincerest apologies. I now understand that YOU needed the nap and, with all these readers as witnesses, I vow never to make fun of you again.

More mouse blogs to follow. But, for now, I'm off to bed.

Love, The Trahans

Christmas

Now that Mikie is in school, he has been learning a lot of new things. Days of the week, months of the year, seasons, the weather, even holidays. He of course is very excited about the coming of Christmas. At least once a week, the post office graciously delivers "magazines" (aka, toy catalogs) to our house. Mikie studies them like he is studying for his MCATs. I only hope he is as studious when school starts. He finds something he likes, and the conversation goes like this:

Mikie: pointing to a toy "What's this, Mom?"

Mom: "Rock 'Em, Sock 'Em Robots."

Mikie: "Read it to me, Mom."

Mom: "'A classic since 1966. Remember the fun you had competing for the title? Two contenders control the plastic boxers every move until the winner knocks loose the other’s spring-loaded head. Lots of action and competition. Will Red Rocker or Blue Bomber prevail?'"

Mikie: "I could have these robots. I could get them for my birthday."

Mom: "Your birthday is over. You can ask Santa for them, and if you are a good boy, MAYBE he will bring them to you."

Mikie: "I will write a letter to Santa so he can bring me these robots for me." (as opposed to bringing them to our house for someone else.)

I figured, since he was so into the idea of Santa, that I would read some Christmas stories, and let him watch "Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown". Heck, if for no other reason than it is a welcome break from watching the "Cars" movie for the 1,000 time. Well, a week after watching the movie, we were sitting a dinner talking about holidays. I asked Mikie what happens at Christmas. Acceptable answers included "Baby Jesus is born", "Santa comes", "It snows", etc. Not Mikie. He looks at us and says "Christmas is commercial, Mom". "Christmas is a racket."

Evidently, instead of picking up on the love and acceptance in the movie, Mikie chose to remember "Christmas is a commercial racket."

Good grief.

Love, The Trahans

The Money & The Purse

Last night, Fisher Price sent us a catalog. First, let me say that I have no idea why Fisher Price started printing catalogs. Their product lines are household names sold in every store that carries toys. Why do they need to waste money printing catalogs when Toys 'R Us prints one for them? Second, I have no idea how I ended up on there mailing list.

None the less, for whatever reason we received the catalog. Mikie, with his super senses, immediately detected the presence of a "magazine" in the house. His mission, as always, to find and read said "magazine" and point out every item that he finds of interest. Today's obsession: the "lots of animals" toy, also known as, the Little People A to Z Learning Zoo.

Since it was educational (helps with learning letter recognition), and we are a bunch of suckers, Mike agreed that we would go to the story and buy this toy. Only after Mikie explained our roles in the shopping trip:

Mikie: "We will go to the store and get the lots of animals. And Dad will bring the money."

Mike: "Does Mom need to come if I have the money?"

Mikie: "Mom will come and bring her purse."

Lauren: "Does my purse have money in it."

Mikie: "No. Dad has the money."

Evidently, my roll is clear. I carry the purse. Mike carries the money. Why I bother working, I have no idea.

Love, The Trahans

Mulch, anyone?

Our newest phase of potty training: big boy underwear. With the excitement (and savings) of not going through as many diapers comes the fear of when, and where, Mikie may pee next. Since Mikie and I spend approximately 40 minutes in the car every morning and every night, I just keep praying that he can hold his bladder for more than the duration of our commute.

We returned home one evening, and no sooner did I turn around to put my purse down, than I see Mikie doing the pee-pee dance. You've all done it: knees turned inwards, ankles crossed, bobbing up and down, trying to will the urine to stay put. I asked Mikie if he had to use the potty. While he said "Yes", I quickly realized that Mikie's version of the pee-pee dance is clearly a post-pee-pee-celebratory dance. Like when you dance after scoring a touch down: he evidently dances after making a puddle on the carpet.

So, I rushed him to the potty, just in case there was more in there. Of course, there wasn't. So, I started to remove his urine stained clothes. As I took off his shoes, dirt came flying out, all over the bathroom floor. As if the puddle in the family room wasn't enough, I know get to vacuum the bathroom. I naively asked Mikie, "What did you do, roll in the dirt at school?" To which he responded with all seriousness, "I put woodchips in my shoes, Mom." Of course, how silly of me. Where else would you put woodchips, right? The child had enough woodchips in his shoes to mulch a flower bed. How he fit his feet in, I have no idea.

Love, The Trahans

Sunny Days

After a week of heat, humidity, and thunder storms in Massachusetts, we were fortunate enough to have sunny days during our trip to Pennsylvania and "Sesame Place". Or, as Mikie calls it "Elmo's World".

I have to say that Anheuser Busch could stop selling beer tomorrow and still make money. We spent $16 on parking, $45/person on admission, $12 for a locker to hold our stuff while we were in the park, $47 on food, $20 for pictures taken of Mikie with Elmo and Oscar the Grouch, and I can't even remember how much in the gift shop. And, we went on 5 rides. Or, Mikie did. Ernie's Bouncy Bed was for kids only, and we couldn't really climb on the sand slides either. So, Grandma Pookie, Mike, and I went on 3 rides. Mikie went on 5. In spite of the cost, we had a great time. We were all excited to see Cookie Monster, Big Bird, and the other characters.

Here's some highlights of our trip:

Mikie, Mom, and Cookie Monster

There are three, THREE people in this picture. . . Mikie, Dad, and The Count pose for a picture.

Mikie runs to give Elmo a hug.

We were informed by the photographer that Elmo is not a "monster", that we should call him an orange "creature" because that was less scary. Obviously, Mikie was not scared. And, I am sure the writers of Sesame Street would find it amusing to know that they have to change character names to "Cookie Creature".

The last ride of the day: Mikie bounces on Ernie's Bed. If you click on the picture, you can watch some video footage. If you listen carefully, you can hear some Mikie catch phrases such as "Man Down" and "Go Mikie Trahan!"
Shortly after filming this, I got to break the rules and climb on Ernie's Bed to retrieve the Trouble maker who PROMISED he would get off when the lady told the kids time was up. Obviously, listening and following directions are still concepts we are trying to master. Although, he was quick to listen when Grandma Pookie went to buy ice cream!

Love, The Trahans

"When I Was A Boy"

Mikie was enjoying his dinner of peanut butter on banana this evening, when he informed me that peanuts are crunchy. Every trying to infuse learning into a conversation, I ask him what the peanut butter is (smooth, creamy, soft, all would have been good answers). Mikie's answer: "it's peanut butter". I start explaining that peanut butter is smooth and creamy, and that peanuts are crunchy. Then, Mikie informs me that peanuts make teeth come out. Curious (and half wondering if he lost a tooth) I asked him how he knew this. He told me the following story:

Mikie: "When I was a boy. . . "

Mom: choking on my drink while laughing "When you were a boy?" (thinking to myself, what are you now, a girl or a man?)

Mikie: "When I was a little boy, I ate some bread and my tooth came down and fell right out."

The story went on, very serious, about opening the refrigerator and another tooth falling out, and about sleeping and climbing up, to where, I never found out. All I could focus on was "When I was a boy. . . " Next week he'll start telling me how he had to walk up hill to get to school.

While life was less exhausting, it was also far less entertaining before Mikie.

Love, The Trahans

Mikie and the "Max Sound Blaster"

One of Mikie's favorite movies is Toy Story (aka The Buzz Woody Movie). He has both a Buzz Lightyear action figure and a Sheriff Woody action figure (aka doll). At the time we bought them, I did not think that Disney could make a more obnoxious toy then these two dolls. Don't get me wrong, I love Toy Story. It is a great movie. But, when all you hear for an hour after your toddler climbs into bed with you at four in the morning is "Howdy, Partner" and "Your my favorite deputy", you would be praying for the days of silent movies.

Fast forward to August. The catalogs of halloween costumes are appearing in our mailbox. And, Mikie, flipping through "his magazines" as he likes to refer to them, sees a Buzz Lightyear costume. Not wanting to find out in a few weeks that they are sold out of his size (which happened to the dinosaur costume we looked at last year), I went online and ordered the costume. And, as all good websites do, the Disney website suggested other items that would compliment my Buzz Lightyear costume, including the "Max Sound Blaster". The description says it all:

"Defend the galaxy alongside Buzz! This awesome light-up blaster comes with 10 different sounds, and side pump to warp sounds."

For the low price of $12.99, of course I added it to my cart. I could picture Mikie in his Buzz Lightyear costume, running from door to door, armed with his "laser" yelling "TO INFINITY AND BEYOND!"

And then came UPS. Today we received the costume, complete with "Max Sound Blaster". Let's just say, Disney succeeded in creating a toy more obnoxious than those talking dolls. The "Max" in "Max Sound Blaster" stands for "Maximum Volume, Maximum Noise". The description failed to mention that there is no on/off switch and no volume control. Translation, buying this toy means an end to any peace and quiet you may have had. I am sure Disney assumed that if you were purchasing the "Max Sound Blaster", you must have a boy between the ages of 3 and 12 and that peace and quiet were words permanently blasted from your vocabulary.

Moral of the story: Think twice before buying any toy with the words "Max", "Sound", and "Blast" in the description.

Love, The Trahans

Peacock

In celebration of the fact that Mikie used the potty all day today (we'll forget the fact that he informed me this morning that I needed to clean his bed because it was "wet"), we took Mikie to Friendly's for dinner. As I told Mikie, everyone's a winner when we eat at Friendly's because Mikie gets hotdogs, french fries and ice cream, and Mom & Dad don't have to cook or clean.

So, we placed our orders and settled in to coloring and small talk while waiting for our meal. Every once in a while, Mikie likes to blurt out random words. Usually, when he gets excited, he yells "MEATBALL", "GREEN BEAN", or on occasion "CHEESEBURGER". But, this evening, while sitting at Friendly's, he turned to the table of girls behind him and yelled "PEACOCK". It may not sound funny to you, but there is something about the enthusiastic sing-song way in which he screams these random words that makes me laugh out loud.

Thankfully, the waitress brought our dinner immediately after this outburst. We have managed to convince Mikie that all restaurant personnel are taking notes to make sure he eats all of his dinner. If he does, they let the "chef" know to make his ice cream. If not, no ice cream. This ploy has worked amazingly well in that Mikie always finishes his hot dog, and intentionally stops eating his french fries before filling up so that he has room for ice cream. Well, this evening, after finishing his last bite of hot dog, he noticed our waitress at a nearby table, replacing all of the bottles of ketchup. Eager for his ice cream, he turned around and announced:

Mikie: "Look, I ate my hotdog all up!"

Waitress: "Good job! Are you going to have ice cream?"

Mikie: "Yes, bring me my chocolate monster with ears."

Waitress: "Let me finish putting away these bottles of ketchup, and I'll come back to take your order."

After "PEACOCK", this was too much for me to handle. I tried to compose myself long enough to explain our deception to the unwitting waitress, but I couldn't stop laughing.

I think next time I am having a bad day, I am going to try yelling a random word to see if it helps. If I laugh half as hard as I did this evening, it should do some good.

CHEESEBURGER!
Love, The Trahans

Mikie Did It

Mikie has adopted a new habit. . . talking about himself in the third person. Sometimes it's appropriate. For example, when he is playing a sport, he says "Mikie scores!", like he is the commentator. Other times, it is just funny.

During dinner one evening, I mentioned that "Someone put stickers in his ears at school today."

Mike: looking at Mikie "Did someone put stickers in your ears?"

Mikie: "Yes"

Mike: "Who put stickers in your ears."

Mikie: "Mikie did it."

As if there was some other kid named Mikie who did these things!

Of course, we eventually got him to admit that he was in fact the "Mikie" who put stickers in his ears, and that a more appropriate choice of words would be "I put stickers in my ears." But, the next night when I asked him who knocked over my pile of clean laundry, his response was "Mikie did it."

Who knows, maybe the kid has an imaginary friend named Mikie Trahan. Or an evil twin I don't remember giving birth to.

Love, The Trahans

Ready, Aim, Pee!

Okay, it has taken months before I finally stopped laughing long enough to grab the camera and memorialize this for all posterity. Words alone could not adequately describe Mikie's potty technique:

Mike and I had been teaching Mikie to use the potty by sitting down. I mean, the last thing I wanted was to have half my bathroom covered in urine because he realized he could aim wherever he pleased. However, we didn't realize the daycare was trying to teach him to pee standing up.

So, you can imagine my surprise one day when Mikie announced he had to use the potty. I took him into the bathroom, and placed his potty seat on the toilet. He looked at me and said, "Not like that, Mom." I asked him to show me what he meant. He proceeded to lift the seat, leaning forward to hold the seat against the back of the toilet like so:

The first time, I was too shocked to grab the step stool. And, since our toilets are standard size (unlike the miniature bowls at daycare), and he wasn't wearing his shoes, he didn't exactly have enough height. So, while he had the best of intentions, he ended up "resting" on the edge of the bowl, rather than standing over it. Before I could compose myself, he had peed, with some urine trickling into the bowl, and some trickling onto the floor. As you can see, he has now perfected his technique!

One day, he will despise me for posting this picture on the internet. But, I laugh every time I see those cheeks!

Love, The Trahans

Fireworks

For the first time in three years, Mike and I managed to see fireworks on the 4th of July. Kind of. Actually, it was the 6th of July, since our town chose to do their display on Friday. And, Mike didn't really see the fireworks. . .

Evidently, the fireworks display is quite the event in Northbridge. The fire company brought one of the firetrucks for the kids to see. There was a moon bounce, fried dough (the New England equivalent of funnel cake), vendors selling glowing necklaces and glasses. Unfortunately, we didn't know that there would be anything to do other than sit in a field waiting for it to get dark, so we didn't show up until 15 minutes before hand. Now we know for next year. We were in time to sing the Star Spangled Banner. Kind of. The high school student who sang the National Anthem did not know the words, pausing for minutes while she tried to read her print out in the dark. While I was shocked that someone could be in high school and not know the National Anthem, I guess we can't really blame her since many celebrities who sing at sporting events also manage to mess it up.

Here's the crew, waiting for the show to start:

Mikie had a good time watching the crowd while drumming on the bleachers with GrandDa:The oversized headphones were a futile attempt to mask the sound of the fireworks. Unfortunately, Mikie was tramatized after the first boom, screaming "they're trying to get me".

Mike graciously volunteered to walk him back to the car while the rest of us watched the show. He managed to watch most of them from the parking lot, while Mikie distracted himself with episodes of "Little Einsteins".

Happy Belated Independence Day.

Love, The Trahans